


Practically Perfect

by LateStarter58



Series: The Loki and Theresa Stories [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 18:25:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16770475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LateStarter58/pseuds/LateStarter58
Summary: Following the events that ended with Loki in disguise on the throne of Asgard and Thor elsewhere, pursuing his own agenda, what was Loki actually up to...? Might he have been paying his own occasional visits to Midgard?





	Practically Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first in my series of stories about Loki and Theresa. There are others about this Loki and his visits to Earth...

Let me make one thing perfectly clear before we start: I do NOT believe in magic, or gods or any of that, OK? For the most part I am very rational, even cynical. But my life, up until now at least, has made me like that, I suppose. I have never been made to think there is a benevolent power watching over us, that’s for sure. That isn’t to say I don’t get emotional, and let’s face it, humans aren’t ever 100% rational beings. That’s good; that’s where art comes from. But that doesn’t mean we have to believe in magic and fairies and goblins; not nowadays.  
Or in gods.  
I did used to harbour the hope that humans weren’t the pinnacle of evolution in the universe. I mean, that would be a pretty depressing thought, right? But when we all found out that we aren’t alone, two years back, well, it wasn’t exactly The Day the Earth Stood Still, was it? Instead of Michael Rennie being all civilised, it was more like a cross between Mars Attacks and a bad episode of Star Trek, with a dose of Godzilla thrown in. I don’t think any of us feel quite the same as we did before all hell broke loose in New York, do we?  
But knowing that portals and aliens exist, that the ‘gods’ are just Superman-style beings from another planet, it’s not the same as believing in supernatural stuff, is it? And I still don’t.  
What I’m basically saying is that if I heard this story from someone else I almost certainly would not believe a word of it. So I’m not asking you to either. Just listen, think, and then make up your own mind.

I am a failure.  
No, wait, hear me out. I really am a bona fide, world-class serial failure. You name it, I’ve failed at it. I was a useless daughter, so my parents hate me. I was a rubbish sister, so my brothers ignore me and pretend I don’t exist. I failed at university and ended up dropping out of my course. And my marriage (if you can even dignify it with that name) was a complete and unmitigated disaster. I can’t sew to save my life; my writing is illegible; I can’t carry a tune; my Yorkshire puddings NEVER rise…  
But the worst thing, the thing that I really don’t want to fail at is the thing I am fucking up right now, on an hourly basis: motherhood. Why else would I be in the bathroom, sitting on the floor with my headphones on, volume turned right up, pretending to read while my kid is screaming her head off in the next room?  
I am in here because I am afraid that if I go back in there I might do something. Something awful.  
Why can’t she just shut the fuck up? Just for a little while? Why can’t I have break from it? I know, I know. I signed up for this when I decided to keep on with the pregnancy, but I had no idea it would be this hard. Or this lonely.  
No doubt Mrs Williams from next door will be pounding on the wall or ringing the bell any minute, so I can’t stay in here much longer. If I don’t answer she might just call the police.  
Would that be so terrible, Theresa? Something might change if she did…  
I dismiss the thought. No. I am doing the right thing, the only sensible thing. I have sole responsibility for Lily. She is my daughter. She’s probably crying because she can sense my stress and anxiety. I need to calm the fuck down and then go back to her. Just a little time-out. So for now I’ll stay in here with Linkin Park turned up to 11.  
Keep yellin’, Chester!  
In the gap between tracks I notice it seems to have gone quiet outside, so I pause my iPod. It is quiet; Lily has stopped yelling.  
Gingerly, I open the door a crack, willing it not to creak and set her off again. All remains silent. Then I hear a soft giggle. Something is amusing her. I raise my eyebrows; very little - apart from tickling and blowing raspberries on her tummy - makes Lily laugh. Me falling over and/or swearing loudly work too, but that can’t be it. I am the only other person in the flat.  
But if I’m in here then who or what is making my 14-month-old giggle?  
I run.  
Lily’s room is empty apart from her. She is standing in her cot as I enter the room, smiling at me, all the while dribbling around her favourite teething ring. It looks filthy; we are having a running battle over it. At least once a day I wrestle it from her convulsive grasp; she screams while I wash it; I hand it back clean and dry; she shoves it roughly into her mouth then throws it on the floor. She will not countenance any other teething item. I have wasted the little money I have spare on several alternatives, hoping to have a selection so that at least one or two of the things she puts in her mouth would be comparatively free from massive bacterial colonies. But no; this is the only one that will do. Another tick in the stress column.  
So what was she laughing at? I look around, wondering if a cat has got in, or maybe a mouse was running around. Or a rat. I nearly make myself scream at that thought. But there is no sign of anything, and no smell of rodents. I may not be the most house-proud of people, but even I would notice if there was an infestation. I hope. The room feels a little cooler than normal, but that’s all that is out of place. So it remains a mystery. Lily is sitting down now, and then she curls up and – amazingly – she lets me cover her up. I do believe she is falling asleep.  
Oh thank god  
There is a soft chuckle from the kitchen. All the hairs on my arms stand to attention.  
That’s no rat.  
I am looking around for a weapon when a flash of movement catches my eye and I squeal. I slap my hand over my mouth immediately. I am more afraid of waking Lily than whoever (or whatever) is in the kitchen, but she dozes on. Cautiously I creep along the hall towards the open doorway. I can hear breathing, but I’m not sure if it’s my own.  
‘There is no cause for alarm, my dear.’  
The voice is velvety, low. Arousing.  
‘I will harm neither you nor your daughter.’  
As I come level with the open door I see him. He is leaning against the wall opposite, next to the little table where I eat breakfast with Lily. He is tall, dark-haired and handsome, in a cold, detached sort of way. He seems vaguely familiar to me. Dressed in an expensive-looking suit, with a silk scarf and a long coat, his arms are folded across his chest and his ankles crossed. He regards me coolly, a smile playing on his thin lips. His face is unnaturally pale.  
‘Who are you and what do you want?’  
My voice sounds shrill, and I realise I am gripping the door frame so hard I can feel it shifting from the wall. He straightens up and takes a step in my direction. I take a backward one in response. He gives a little half-laugh.  
‘I am here to help you. I will not hurt you. Nothing will happen without your agreement.’  
My mind is spinning. What on earth could that mean? How did he get in? Who the fuck is he?  
‘Who ARE you?’  
I look him in the eye – the bright, intelligent, wicked eye - and find myself transfixed. He opens his mouth and I realise that I know the answer a split-second before he speaks.  
‘I am Loki of Asgard.’  
Him. The villain of New York. I thought he looked familiar.  
Hang on, isn’t he in jail?  
That chuckle again. He is really very attractive and I feel an ache starting. One I haven’t had for a while.  
‘Appearances can be deceptive, my dear.’  
What the fuck does that mean?  
I snap out of it. How dare he come into my home uninvited?  
‘Ah but you called me, my dear,’ He smirks at my puzzlement, which must be showing on my face.  
‘You need help. I can offer it.’  
‘What the fuck are you taking about? Asgard offering childcare now, is it? Or money? I could use some of that. Or a job which doesn’t mean I’ll be worse off than I am now!’ I am shouting.  
He takes another step towards me and this time I stand my ground. I discover I like the idea of being closer to him. I can smell him now: trees, forests, grass with a layer of frost. Cool green things. A hand comes up and strokes my hair. I maintain eye-contact; I am still unconvinced he isn’t a threat to me or Lily.  
‘I may be able to help you in more than one way. I have already started. Lily is asleep, and she will sleep better now.’  
‘What have you done to her?’ I shout, suddenly alarmed. Has he drugged her or something?  
‘No harm, I assure you. I used a little magic my mother taught me to soothe her. She will know how to calm herself from now on.’  
I am still bristling with maternal anxiety. ‘Well, whatever. Magic? Bollocks!’ I try to calm my breathing, but my pulse is pounding. Not all of it is fear. ‘Anyway, what exactly are you planning to do for me?’  
I know what I want him to do, and judging from the look I am getting, he has the same idea. But that can’t really qualify as ‘help’ can it? Not even in his twisted mind.  
Oh shit. He’s a maniac, woman! You can’t trust him an inch.  
I stiffen my back and try to calm my racing heart. The wetness between my legs betrays my true feelings, unfortunately, and he seems to be reading my thoughts.  
‘I assure you that I can be trusted. I have changed since… then.’  
I look at his face. Just about the only thing I haven’t failed at – so far - is judgement of character. For whatever reason, just possibly because he is the most sexually alluring man I have ever seen, I decide to trust him. For a little longer anyway.  
‘You have a few problems, not all of which I can resolve, but I may be able to assist you with some. As I said, I have already solved one. You should be able to get a night’s rest now. Your daughter will sleep until morning; all night, every night.’  
I don’t believe that for a nanosecond, but it would be great. Ecstatically great.  
‘The other major difficulty I see in your life is money. You cannot work because you are alone and you are unable to find day-care for Lily at a cost you will be able to meet from a wage. ‘  
He has stepped to one side and is leaning against the sink. He pauses, regarding me with a raised eyebrow.  
‘Is that a good summary of your situation?’  
I nod. How the hell an alien from another dimension or whatever he is knows all this I have zero clue, but that is a concise description of my dilemma. He is in my flat, he knows Lily’s name, so why shouldn’t he know everything else?  
‘I can arrange for… someone … to come and care for your daughter while you work. As soon as you find a job, they will visit you so you may judge their suitability. I think you will find them to your liking.’  
‘Hang on a minute.’ My scepticism has cranked right up again. ‘Are you telling me you are going to provide me with an alien fucking nanny?’  
He smiles broadly and it transforms his face. That cool detachment has gone and I find myself believing everything he has told me. For a moment; I shake my head to clear it again.  
Magic? No. Nannies from outer space? Triple no.  
‘I see I have some way to go to convince you, my dear. Perhaps, if you will allow me…?’  
He walks back over to me and caresses my hand, and then he leans down and kisses me on the lips. Now, it’s been a while; my deadbeat ex left the minute he knew I was pregnant, so over a year at least. But that is irrelevant, because this is beyond compare. Massive, overwhelming, knee-trembling, palm-sweating lust grips me. I grab him around the neck and return his kiss a thousand-fold.  
He wastes no time, pulling me tight against his body. He smells glorious, tastes dangerous. I close my eyes as his lips and tongue caress my face, then my neck. I had no idea I could feel like this; every pore is screaming for his touch. I moan as he nibbles lightly on that sensitive spot just at the top of my shoulder, and feel him grin against my skin.  
‘So ready for this, aren’t you, darling?  
‘You have no idea,’ I say and he throws his head back as he roars with laughter.  
Puzzled by this reaction I draw back from him, but he grabs me and spinning round, plonks me on the worktop. I like the way this is going. He moves up really close and I become aware that he may have other – shall we say – ‘powers’. I find myself wrapping my legs around his waist and my hands seem to be tangling into his long, slick black hair. I like it. I hate long hair on men; I like it on him.  
A lot.  
His fingertips are touching my outer thighs, the icy touch making the flesh ripple with goosebumps even through the thin denim.  
Why is he so cold? Norse god, is that it?  
His mouth is hot enough on my breast.  
Hang on! Where the fuck did my clothes go? Same place as his clothes.  
Jeez! Will you look at that! Fuuuck…  
‘That is the idea, darling.’  
He chuckles again, and the sound of it passes through my breast (where his mouth happens to be right now) and straight to my cunt. I moan loudly, clap my hand over my mouth again; the last thing I want is for Lil to wake up and interrupt us.  
‘No need to worry, my dear. You can scream my name as loudly as you like – and you will, have no fear – and Lily will sleep soundly through it all.’  
His fingers continue to cause tingling as they travel down to my ankles. My eyes close and I concentrate on the sensation. No one has touched me like this is a long time. I have no idea why I have been singled out for this, and I should be scared. I am, a little, but that seems to be adding to the pleasure. Loki’s mouth is still on me too: his tongue tastes the flesh between my breasts. I want this so much I have to restrain myself from grabbing at him. But at the same time I feel oddly peaceful; soothed, even.  
The worktop is hard underneath me but the real problem is the wall cupboard. My head tips back as I relish the waves of pleasure sweeping over me and I crack my skull on the door. His eyes fix on mine and he acts immediately. Loki pulls me close to him and holds tight, making a gesture with his right hand. Suddenly we are on the sofa in the sitting room.  
Magic, is that what this is?  
My pondering of this wonder is interrupted by his mouth nibbling on the inside of my thigh. I grab his slick black hair and try to pull him to where I want – need – him to be but he is too strong for me and insists on his own tempo. I run my hands over his alabaster shoulders. He is so pale he resembles a marble statue in a museum. Except that, well, all the classical ones I’ve seen have tiny cocks; he does not. Oh no.  
Then his mouth is there: where I want it, need it to be and I am moaning and screaming. In what feels like seconds I am coming and he is laughing and that makes me come again, harder and so it continues. I manage to pull him off me and he smiles that scary-sexy smile, my orgasm shining on his chin.  
‘Now my dear, I am going to fuck you. It will be magnificent. It will spoil you for mortal men, but that is the unfortunate side-effect of a visit from a god.’  
I look at him. This time I do not doubt him for a millisecond.  
In a flash he is between my legs and then he slides into me. He is massive; it crosses my mind that this might be one reason why people thought the Asgardians were gods. I am amazed that he entered me so readily, given the girth of him. He whispers into my ear.  
‘My, my, you are wet. Such wantonness. And in a mother. I like it.’  
I sigh. I am getting a bit tired with his ‘witty’ comments. ‘Oh god, Loki, just fuck me.’  
‘As you wish, darling.’  
And so he does. He pulls me a bit more onto my back, lifts my legs onto his shoulders and begins to pound into me. The air in my lungs is expelled with every stroke. It comes out in a muffled grunt, a sort of ‘oof’. He chuckles again.  
‘Tell me, my dear. Have you ever had a bigger cock inside you? Has another man ever filled you like this? No, of course not. You will not be satisfied with mere mortals after me.’  
I come again and again; I lose count and it begins to merge into one long spasm of ecstasy. His face is beautiful, his eyes hypnotic, his body intoxicating. At some point I fall asleep in his arms. It feels oddly natural to snuggle up on my tatty old sofa with a Norse god. I wake and he is looking at me, a benevolent smile brightening his pale features. I study his face, wondering if I should accept his offer of practical assistance. I mean, he must have powers of some sort. He got into my flat silently. He can make clothes disappear…  
‘Say I did get a job. How would it work, this ‘childcare’ of yours?’  
’As soon as you do, I will send someone to see you. I think they will meet with your approval.’  
I must have dropped off again, because I wake up at the normal time, in my bed. I am still naked but alone. I feel a little bereft, I don’t mind saying, but then I see it. His lovely silk scarf is on my pillow.  
I am due for my benefits interview that week, and I tell the advisor that I have some potential childcare lined up. She sends me for an interview at a bookshop. I really like the owner; Arthur’s a retired schoolteacher who opened the shop mainly as a hobby. Now he is in failing health, but doesn’t want it to close. I would be assisting him as well as running it single-handed when he is unable to work. I do not expect to get a dream job at my first try, but I do.  
That very evening, there is a quiet knock on the door. I assume it is Mrs Williams. You can’t get into the building without a code or being buzzed in. But no; it was a tall, dark-haired woman. She looks oddly familiar.  
‘Can I help you?’  
‘I am here to help you, Theresa.’  
A shiver went down my spine. Could that be..?  
‘Loki?’  
‘Not quite.’ The woman smiled and I was even more certain. I see that smile in my dreams every night. Was this the ‘nanny’?  
‘Loki has sent me, yes. May I come in?’  
I step aside and the ‘woman’ strides in. She knows her way around the place, that’s for sure; she walks straight into the sitting room and sits down, looking expectantly at me. I sit down in the chair opposite and regard her. She looks very like Loki: long straight black hair, shining like a raven’s wing; tall and willowy; slender limbs and his pale face. But everything has the softening of femininity. Is this more of his ‘magic’?  
‘Prince Loki has the ability to make duplicates of himself, and they can have any Aspect of him. I am one such in his female Aspect.’  
‘Clones, you mean? So you aren’t actually him then?’  
‘Not as such. But he will sense everything I do. And he can communicate with you through me – if he wishes to.’  
I mull it over. I make tea, offer biscuits and think the whole bizarre situation through. In the end it isn’t so hard to decide. I like Arthur a lot and the job in his shop is perfect. Loki has done nothing so far to make me distrust him. If the worst comes to the worst I can resign after a few days if things aren’t working out. And let’s face it, Theresa: beggars can’t be choosers.  
So that is how I come to be living a very different life now. Every morning I leave for work, waving goodbye to my giggling daughter. She is usually in her highchair in the kitchen, being fed cereal or fruit by Mary Poppins (I call her that). Lily laughs a lot, and adores her nanny. As do I. My job is heavenly. I get to read as much as I want when there are no customers, surrounded by the best smell in the world (apart from the top of Lily’s head): second-hand books.  
I hope one day that Loki will come back. I still don’t know why he singled me out for his help, but I will never be able to repay him. I am happier and certainly better off than I was, but he was right about one thing: I have been asked out three times in the last month by customers and once by a book dealer; it is flattering but I turned them all down. Once you have been with a god, mere mortals lose their appeal.


End file.
